


Misplaced

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [131]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 08:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Sometimes Stephen had a hard time remembering just what timeline they were in.





	Misplaced

   It was quiet in the Sanctum, the air holding the kind of stillness one learns to expect from ancient spaces. Tony was curled up in an armchair, pushed close to the fire, listening to the ghostly crackle, soft as a sigh. The only other sound to pierce the air was the occasional turning of pages, whether that be from Stephen’s large tome, or the smaller textbook in his own lap.

   It was remarkably peaceful.

   Tony stretched a bit, turning his neck from side to side, eyes moving lazily over where Stephen’s gaze moved swiftly over the pages, mouth framing each word at lightening speed. He seemed to be alert, not the least bit deterred by the increasingly late hour and Tony contemplated how much longer until he could reasonably convince his lover to join him in bed.

   He hoped it was soon. Tony was tired, having spent the last forty-eight hours trying and failing to negotiate the new product launch planned for the fall. The board wanted it, Tony didn’t, and when they tried to vote it in, he’d called in the big guns, watching smugly as Pepper annihilated the stuffy old men’s intentions. It never got old.

   “Tony?”

   The sound of Stephen’s voice, coloured in confusion made him still, stomach dropping and effectively dissipating the comfortable bubble they’d both been existing in. Swallowing thickly, Tony took in Stephen’s furrowed brows, bitten lip, and increasingly worried gaze.

   “What are you doing here?”

   His eyes were distant, painfully so, looking straight through him and at something far more terrible. Slowly, so as not to alarm him, Tony shifted until he was leaning forward in his seat, offered a tight smile, “hey sweetheart, you doing alright?”

   The pet name was deliberate and when Stephen froze, he knew it had the intended effect. Stephen’s mouth opened and closed, and Tony knew he was sinking further into his mind, leaving him feeling sick.

   It hadn’t happened in awhile.

   Fits, Wong called them. It had been explained that sometimes…there was just too much in Stephen’s mind, forcing to expand and adapt to a host of information. The fact that he had an eidetic memory made it worse, because it didn’t dispose of the extras it should, instead holding it close and rearing its ugly head in moments like these.

   Stephen would slip…forget what timeline he was in and would have this confused, lost expression that was painful to witness, until he eventually found his way back. They offered clues, in the way of pet names and casual information, knowing what disaster came from simply unloading it on him. Stephen had to find it himself and Tony dreaded the day he no longer knew the path back home…back to him.

   “I was thinking,” Tony began carefully, deliberately twirling the ring on his finger. “We should head to bed, it’s getting late and you have a meeting tomorrow.”

   Stephen stared at his hand, trembling fingers ghosting over his own nanotech one. In some ways Tony understood, this life they had cultivated from the ashes was dreamlike in its beauty, near impossible according to Stephen. It must be difficult to remember that its real, that somehow, they had pulled this off and everything was alright.

   Tony could still remember the time he’d refused to believe it and had snarled at him and Wong to stop, that beautiful lies were not enough.

   It had been bad, but not as bad as the tears. God Tony hated them, the feeling helplessness that arose when Stephen would sob and shake his head desperately, hands warding them off.

   The worst though, the worst was when Stephen was utterly unreachable. He would sit there, calm as ever, hands folded politely in his lap, clearly believing them to be the false future and obviously searching for the real one in his head. He was always so cold, and Tony was forever afraid that was how he’d lose him.

   Tonight though, seemed to be…ok. Stephen’s mind was racing, that much was clear. His eyes were glassy, which sucked but at least he was there and present. Tony waited, tense and uneasy, prepared to offer more information without pressuring, more prepared to call Wong, who was so much better at this then him. But then Stephen tilted his head, the smallest of unsure smiles sliding onto his lips and Tony could have cried with relief. Sometimes it lasted hours and other times minutes. He’d been lucky tonight.

   “Tony?” apologetic, looking for confirmation.

   “Hey darling. Is it ok if I touch you?”

   Stephen slumped a bit and Tony knew he was back in the present, fully aware of exactly what timeline they were living in and who everyone was in relation to him and that it was _real_ , “yeah,” he whispered.

   Tony was by his side in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around his lover’s lightly shaking form, resting his chin on his head and feeling the death grip on his shoulder as Stephen buried his face there.

   “I’m sorry,” Stephen’s voice was pained, regretful.

   “Its not your fault.”

   “I…I never want to go, it just comes so fast, I’m sorry.”

   Tony hated it; the sound of his lover being broken all over again. Stephen had explained to him once that it was like a wave crashing over his head and he doesn’t know which way is up, how to reach the surface again.

   “You’re here,” Tony soothed. “I’m here, and we’ll be ok, just like always.”

   Stephen gripped him tighter and Tony simply held on, knowing he was grounding himself, reacquainting with the timeline they were in. Soon enough, he could hear Stephen whispering over and over, like when he read all the books in the library and would mouth the words. Tony didn’t try to listen; knew he wouldn’t be able to hear no matter how hard he strained toward it. His lover was saying their story, the one he envisioned in the time stone from beginning to end.

   It took a solid ten minutes, Tony having timed it on a few occasions, until their entire history, past and present had been recited like a playwright, thoughts and emotions reduced to single sentences and shaky memories.

   When Stephen pulled back and looked up at him, his eyes stared at him as though he were a mirage, but it wasn’t like before, when it was like Tony had been misplaced in his mind, no this look was one of complete and utter awe.

   They had got lucky with this life. Neither of them could forget it.

   “I love you,” Stephen murmured.

   Tony leaned in to press a hard kiss to his forehead, holding it for a long moment while he gathered his composure, cast away the fears that loomed, telling him it would happen again and soon.

   “I love you too,” he gripped Stephen’s hand firmly. “Now come to bed.”


End file.
